


A love as powerful

by AnnaTheHank



Series: A/C/G ot3 [28]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Not Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Hastur redemption, Kidnapping, Ligur Lives (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Gabriel, Pure Love, Raphael is the one true angel, Redemption, Revenge, striking fear into your enemies with the power of your love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: Hastur has been messing with Crowley in his attempt to get revenge. Everything form hellish colds, to nightmares have failed him. So he resorts to kidnapping.But the fierce protection of his husbands saves Crowley, and the return of an old angel to earth might just help heal old wounds.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Raphael, Aziraphale/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens), Gabriel & Raphael (Good Omens), Hastur & Raphael, implied Hastur/Ligur
Series: A/C/G ot3 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1424962
Comments: 48
Kudos: 82





	1. The nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I said it before and i'll say it again: I will not rest until everyone gets a redemption arch 😂😂😂
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I know this took forever but I had to work out the kinks of how I wanted it to go. But it is here! and I appreciate you all coming back around for more <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Also did I mention that Raphael is my new favorite now? I want him and Phanuel to just sip tea and talk shit about everyone else at weekly meetings. That is how deep my obsession in the fandom has gone 😂😂😂

Gabriel really needed to learn what it was about Aziraphale’s face that made saying no impossible. It had been so easy before. Gabriel had never had trouble saying no to Aziraphale back when he was his boss. But now he was Aziraphale’s husband. And the very concept of saying no turned him to mush. 

So there he was, spending yet another night at the bookshop while work piled up back in heaven. He had only meant to come for a quick lunch. And now Crowley was wrapped around him, snoring against his chest, as Gabriel and Aziraphale talked in the quiet of the night. 

Aziraphale was telling Gabriel all about this new little pastry shop that had opened up the other day. It was just down the street and Crowley had made a habit of stopping by to get him something nearly every day. Gabriel had no interest in trying any of the things that Aziraphale listed off their menu, but he did have an interest in watching Aziraphale’s eyes light up as he talked about them.

“And to think,” Aziraphale said, smiling his happy smile, the one that moved his whole face in tight wrinkles. “They never would have been able to open their shop if they hadn’t gotten that loan! All of that talent gone to waste over something as ridiculous as money.”

Gabriel nodded. Money was ridiculous. Crowley made a noise and twitched a bit in his sleep. Gabriel looked down at him. “You don’t suppose he had something to do with that, do you?”

“Money?” Aziraphale asked. “No, no.” He looked up, remembering the past. “I’m fairly certain that was one of ours. Backfired a bit, I’m afraid.”

Gabriel smiled fondly at him. “I mean the pasty shop. It seems a little convenient that they would get the loan _and_ the shop space would be available just down the street. At the same time, no less.”

Aziraphale sat up a bit, eyes searching the dark room for an answer. “I...Why the little devil.” He chuckled and rustled Crowley’s hair. Crowley had no response to that, and Gabriel frowned. Even in his sleep Crowley was quick to appreciate a gesture of affection from Aziraphale. 

“He’s very considerate,” Gabriel mused. “And I’m sure the pastry chef is grateful for his help.”

“You know,” Aziraphale said. He hummed a bit, eyebrows furrowing as he stroked Crowley’s hair, seemingly equally disturbed by Crowley’s lack of response. “He’s been making a go of that lately. We both have, come to think of it.” He smiled at Gabriel, and that was one of those faces Gabriel knew he would have to study. “It’s been so wonderfully freeing.”

“Helping pastry chefs has been freeing?”

“Helping all of them.” Aziraphale gestured out the window. Behind the soft, lace curtains, Gabriel could make out a few lights in the buildings opposite them. “Not having to worry about if we’ll get caught, or if we should or not. Just...helping. Unhindered.” He turned the smile back to Gabriel. “It’s wonderful.”

Gabriel frowned slightly. “Aziraphale, I…” He swallowed back his pitiful apology. There was nothing he could do or say to make up for the years he had hindered Aziraphale and all he wanted to do. All he _could_ do. 

Aziraphale matched his frown and reached out to touch Gabriel’s arm. He stopped, halfway, as Crowley mumbled. He was twitching again, only with more erratic movements and sharper hitches. They both looked down at him, surprised.

“Is...is he having another nightmare?” Gabriel asked. His body went stiff beneath Crowley, ready to run. He couldn’t face that moment again. He wouldn’t leave forever, like he had intended before. But he wasn’t going to be around when Crowley woke from that fear. 

“It does seem like it.” Aziraphale slid down, laying on his side. He gently brushed the hair out of Crowley’s face. “Darling,” he whispered. “Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

Gabriel waited, tense and fearful, feeling his heart beat against his chest. 

Aziraphale’s frown deepened. He raised his voice a bit, leaning up on his elbow to speak closer to Crowley’s ear. “It’s just a nightmare, Dear,” he said. Crowley just kept mumbling and twitching. “Crowley?” 

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked. Crowley was normally quick to waken, especially when one of them was disturbing him. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“He’s probably stuck,” Aziraphale said, calm as could be. “That happens from time to time. If he’s really in it.”

“Stuck?” Gabriel stroked over Crowley’s hair. “Can he get un-stuck?”

“Oh yes.” Aziraphale gave Gabriel a reassuring smile. “I just have to go in and get him.”

Gabriel watched Aziraphale roll his sleeves up before placing a hand over Crowley’s chest. “Can I help in anyway?” he asked.

Aziraphale glanced up, as if surprised. “Oh. Why, yes. If you’d like to help.” He nodded. 

Gabriel did want to help. He was their husband, after all. He couldn’t just let them suffer. He placed a hand over Aziraphale’s, already feeling the energy at work there. Aziraphale smiled at him, and then the energy pulled, sucking the two of them into Crowley’s dream.

-

It was nighttime, and they were standing on the street outside the bookshop. Nothing seemed terribly out of the ordinary, except for the flickering streetlight. Gabriel watched it with interest as Aziraphale mumbled.

“This isn’t right at all,” he huffed.

“What’s that?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s usually on fire,” Aziraphale explained. He gestured to the bookshop, which looked not on fire. But it was a little...older, perhaps? As if no one had lived there for a few years. Aziraphale cleared his throat and straightened his clothes. “Let’s go take a look.”

Gabriel nodded and followed Aziraphale inside. Bookshelves had been turned over, and loose pages floated around them. Books were strewn about, covered in a fine layer of dust. Gabriel crouched down, studying the scene. There were tracks in the dust, like something long and round had been dragged around certain parts.

“This isn’t right at all,” Aziraphale muttered. “Crowley?” he called. “Darling, where are you?”

Gabriel stood up and investigated a nearby standing bookshelf. There was a piece of white _something_ draped over the length of the top. It glistened slightly in low light and Gabriel squinted at it, trying to determine any identifiable aspects of it. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called again. He stood in the center of mess, looking around as his hands wrung together. “Oh, what’s happened here?”

Gabriel had half of a second to react after recognizing the pattern on the white thing above him. He moved over to Aziraphale in an instant, his rush accentuated by the loud hiss that filled the room. He wrapped one arm around Aziraphale, holding him close and curling his body over him. Gabriel held his other arm up, taking the full force of the bite that struck out at them. 

Aziraphale gasped, holding on tight to Gabriel’s arm. Crowley, who was long, thick, and very snake-y, kept his wide mouth around Gabriel’s arm, sharp fangs digging deep into skin and muscle. Gold-tinted blood dripped down to the floor. Crowley hissed again and released his bite, slipping away into the shadows of the shop.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale went to chase after him, but Gabriel pulled him back, pivoting on his back foot to fend off another strike. The impact wounds of Crowley’s fangs stung, but Gabriel couldn’t let his guard down.

“We should get out of here,” Gabriel told Aziraphale. “It’s not safe.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale said. He struggled but Gabriel would not let him go. “We have to help him!”

Crowley hissed and released Gabriel’s arm, once more disappearing from view. “He’s not himself,” Gabriel warned. “He will not hesitate to hurt you.”

“That’s exactly why we have to help!”

“I’m open to any ideas!” Gabriel growled as he moved them again, a third strike making his arm go numb. He dropped it, Crowley’s body thumping to the floor. Crowley hissed and slithered around them on the floor. Gabriel grabbed his arm, trying to rub feeling back into it. 

“Crowley, darling, please! It’s us!” Aziraphale begged. 

Crowley seemed not to hear him. He circled around them once, his body so long that it coiled up around itself. He reared back, primed and ready to strike at Aziraphale’s leg. And with Gabriel’s arm down he couldn’t defend it. He had to go on the offensive.

Gabriel spun Aziraphale out of the way and struck out at Crowley as he went in for the kill. Hand contacted scales, and a powerful flash of lighting filled the room with a thunderous rumble, sending shocks of power rippling throughout Crowley’s body. 

Crowley flew back a bit. His body slid into a standing bookshelf, writhing and convulsing on the floor as he hissed. With every twitch of his body, he shrank, scales dissolving and fading away to skin. 

Aziraphale rushed forward, kneeling next to him as he changed. Gabriel kept a wary eye on them as he investigated the wounds on his arm. It tingled a bit. That was a good sign. 

“Crowley, darling, please, it’s okay.” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley was himself again, shivering and shaking in the beam of moonlight that filtered in through the window. His eyes were wide and stark yellow as he stared at Aziraphale. 

“N-no,” he whispered. “It...it can’t be…”

“It’s alright, darling. I’m here.” Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley’s hair. He glanced at Gabriel over his shoulder. “We’re here.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale’s gaze and then shook his head. “You can’t be.” He drew his knees to his chest, scurrying away from Aziraphale a bit. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows at him. Crowley looked to the other side of the shop.

Two once-bodies were slumped against the wall, leaning against each other. The clothes were familiar, and splashes of gold littered their bodies. They were peppered with sharp, puncture wounds.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale whispered. He shuffled closer to Crowley, reaching out and caressing his cheek. “It’s alright, darling. It’s just a dream. You’re having a nightmare. Gabriel and I are safe; you are safe. And we are all together in the real bookshop. Alright?”

Crowley stared at him, shaking still. Then there was that pull at Gabriel’s body again and he was back in bed, a cold, yet sweaty, Crowley plastered to his chest. He was shivering, griping tighter around Gabriel’s waist.

“There, there,” Aziraphale whispered. He was stroking over Crowley’s hair and face, calming him. “It’s alright now, darling. It’s alright.”

After a few seconds of shivering and mumbling, Crowley’s body finally relaxed. Gabriel relaxed with him, glad to know that Crowley wasn’t suffering, and even more glad to know the dream had not been about his past mistakes. 

“That’s never happened before,” Crowley said, his voice a half-sob. 

“I know, dear.” Aziraphale shuffled closer, leaning down to hug him. “But it’s over now. It’s okay.”

“Where did that even come from?” Gabriel asked. Aziraphale once told him that dreams in humans usually had a relation to the realities of their world. 

Crowley hissed (a noise that set off a rush of adrenaline in Gabriel’s spine) and curled himself closer to Gabriel’s body. “Someone’s fucking with me,” he growled.

“Another demon?” Aziraphale suggested. 

“That would explain your cold the other day,” Gabriel said. 

There was another growl, but this time not from Crowley. Aziraphale sat up, hands balled into fists. “They are not going to get away with this.”

Gabriel agreed. No one was going to hurt his husbands, not while he was around. He and Aziraphale were going to find out exactly who was fucking with Crowley. And they would make that demon realize the full extent of their mistake.


	2. Lunch with a twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me or does Raphael gives off very big 'wine mom' vibes?
> 
> Thank you all, again, for putting up with my erratic posting schedule nonsense. I really appreciate you all reading this series and keeping up with it, more than you could possibly know <3 <3 You all make this so fun and exciting and I hope you are all doing well <3

Gabriel had gone back to Heaven to do some reconnaissance work. He wanted to stay on Earth and look after them, but Aziraphale and Crowley both agreed that he had the best resources to figuring things out. 

Crowley had gone out for the day to get rid of some ‘chaotic energy’, as he called it. Aziraphale didn’t want him outside of the protection of their charms, but he knew that keeping Crowley cooped up in the shop would just make matters worse. So as long as he promised not to do anything stupid, and to call to check in periodically, Crowley was eventually allowed his freedom that morning.

It had been a while since Aziraphale actually made the effort to open the shop, so he flipped the sign over and got ready to practice his best anti-buying tactics to keep his mind off everything else. As he went about dis-organizing the shelves so books were harder to find, he thought about what it would be like to close up shop, as it were. He did enjoy the hub-bub of the city, and all that the unique humans there had to offer, but it might be nice, he thought, to not have to keep up appearances. To have a private library instead of a bookshop. After all, he wasn’t an agent of heaven. There was no need to have a base of operations, especially not one everyone knew the location of. 

Before long there was a knock on the door. Aziraphale peeked at it from behind the shelf he was working on. The sign had been turned around, so there was really no reason to knock. Unless it was just a very polite human. Which Aziraphale felt conflicted about because he, generally, didn’t like being rude to someone who was polite enough to knock. 

“It is open,” he called out. He figured it was a common mistake for people to make, especially with his past history of erratic openings. 

The door budged a bit, but didn’t open. “Is it?” a voice called out from the other side. 

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows. The voice was a bit familiar, but in the same way a voice in a dream was familiar. He knew he knew it, but he couldn’t put his finger on who it was. He checked to make sure the door hadn’t accidentally locked itself, then gave it a tug, finding it opened with surprising ease. 

A familiar soul with an unfamiliar face stared back at Aziraphale. His hair had grown long, streaks of black and white braided back in a green ribbon. Once bright eyes sat deep in his skull, and a weariness of ages gone by settled into his skin like a well-worn sweater. But despite all that, Raphael was smiling. 

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale gulped, hardly believing his eyes. He rubbed at them, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. But when the blurriness faded, Raphael was still standing on his doorstep. “Raphael?” he asked, just to be certain.

“Yes,” Raphael confirmed. “I know, long time no see, hm?” He chuckled softly and Aziraphale was transported back to a time when pain and hurt did not exist. He wanted to stay in that world forever. 

“What...what are you doing here?” Theoretically, Aziraphale should panic. He should be panicking. Raphael may have spent the last several millennia in Eden, but who knows what happened after that. Maybe the other angels had gone to him, had brought him back home, had sent him down here to ruin them.

Maybe it hadn’t been a demon messing with Crowley after all.

“Gabriel invited me,” Raphael said. 

And Aziraphale squinted at him, his most recent suspicion growing by the second. “Did he now?”

“Well,” Raphael chuckled again and looked to the side and he gestured to the air. “He said I should stop by if I was ever around.” He shrugged. “And here I am. Around.”

“Left Eden, have you?”

“Not permanently. But I’ve been told the world is worth seeing these days.”

Aziraphale straightened up, showing Raphael that he wasn’t afraid, and he certainly wasn’t buying into the act. “When, exactly, did he speak with you, hm? Last I heard you two had quite the fight.”

Raphael’s eyes met Aziraphale’s, and a strange wave of calm rushed over him. Not quite trusting, but more understanding. “A few weeks ago. He was having…” Raphael smirked a bit. “Marital problems.”

Aziraphale’s own facade dropped. Marital problems? Now he knew that Raphael had to be lying. Gabriel would hardly go running off to talk to him, let alone about their marriage. No. No this was all some kind of trick. And Aziraphale, for one, would not be played for a sucker!

“Would you like to have lunch?” Raphael asked, once more upturning Aziraphale’s thought process. “I can understand your reservations,” he gestured to the shop, “but I would like to talk to you. It has been roughly five thousand years.”

Aziraphale bit his lip and looked back in the shop. He was genuinely curious about what Raphael had to say, if he had anything to say at all. But he wasn’t very fond of going anywhere with him, not when he didn’t know what, exactly, was going on. And with no one to know where he was, no one would be able to save him. 

“That’s alright,” Raphael said. He held up a hand and shook his head. “I understand. It was a pleasure to see you again, Aziraphale. And I hope you continue to do well.” He smiled then, a pure, radiant kind of smile, then turned to leave.

“Raphael, wait!” Aziraphale found himself calling out before he could stop himself. Raphael turned on his heels, waiting. “Just...give me one moment.”

Aziraphale shut the door and took a few calming breaths. This was ridiculous, and he was being silly. But he had to do what he had to do. And he had to find out exactly why Raphael was here and what was going on. So he rushed over to his phone and dialed Crowley’s number.

“For the last, bloody time, Angel,” Crowley answered, “I’m not doing anything dumb!”

“Yes, Dear, I know.” Aziraphale felt a little sheepish of the dozen or so calls he had made that morning, just to be sure. “But I’m afraid I am.”

“What’s that now?”

Aziraphale toyed with the cord of the phone, checking out the window to make sure Raphael was still there. He was standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, smiling and nodding at the humans as they passed by. 

“I’m going to lunch with Raphael,” Aziraphale explained. 

“That’s fi-wait. Who?”

“Raphael,” Aziraphale repeated. He checked the receiver to make sure there wasn’t any interference.

“The archangel? Didn’t he fuck off to Eden ages ago?”

Aziraphale nodded, then remembered Crowley couldn't see him over the phone. “Yes. But he’s back now and I’m determined to find out why.”

Crowley sighed, with a bit of a groan. “You realize this is some kind of trap, right? Just, stay there. I’ll come get you.”

“No, no! There’s no need. I realized he could be up to no good, but...I want to be certain is all. In case. Besides,” he turned and looked at the spot on the floor where they had built a trap door. Beneath his feet he had quite the arsenal of holy weapons, should the need arise. “I won’t be going unprepared.”

Crowley was quiet for a moment and Aziraphale wondered if they had got cut off. “Just…” Crowley sighed, his voice a whisper. “Just be _careful_ , Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled, feeling a bit more at peace. “I will. And you be, too. And if you don’t hear from me soon…”

“I’ll call Gabriel,” Crowley finished with a bit of a chuckle. 

“Very good,” Aziraphale agreed. They said their goodbyes and Aziraphale carefully picked out a small but effective weapon to take with him. Something he could hide on the underside of his vest. Just a little insurance, in case his hunch was right. 

-

So far, Aziraphale's hunch had not been right. He sat across from Raphael at one of his favorite little cafes. They had chosen the outdoor seating, a lovely little round table with a large umbrella sticking out the top, shielding them from the sun.

“What a charming venue,” Raphael said. He was smiling that natural smile of his as he glanced at all the tables and the humans that sat around them. Most angels had a smile like that, one that seemed to be just part of their personality. Most had lost them long ago.

“I enjoy it quite a fair bit,” Aziraphale agreed. He had ordered some pastries and tea for them, not sure what Raphael would like. Aziraphale hadn’t seen him since a short time after the fall. They may have known each other quite well beforehand, but, if Raphael was anything like the others, he’s probably changed quite a bit since then.

“You always had good taste,” Raphael said, “even when there wasn’t much taste to choose from.” He chuckled and Aziraphale found himself laughing along with him. It was hard not to be at ease in Raphael’s presence. 

But he knew he must never let down his guard.

“So, you mentioned that Gabriel came to you with, er, problems?” If it was true, that Gabriel had gone to him, then Aziraphale needed to know what problems he was having that he couldn’t come to him with.

“A few weeks ago,” Raphael said. He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap. “He was quite surprising, I have to say. You and Crowley seem to have had an influence on him.”

“Hopefully good.”

“Seems so, so far.”

Their order arrived and Raphael sniffed at his tea before taking a sip with a hum. “Delectable. I find myself amazed by the flavors humans have come up with in the last few centuries.”

Aziraphale could always appreciate a fellow culinary-aficionado. He smiled and sat forward in his seat, eagerly sipping at his own tea. It wasn’t the best he’s had, but he could see how someone who’s lived away from such mixes of flavor could find it delectable. “I’m sure I could share more foods and drinks with you you might enjoy.”

Raphael blinked at him, as if surprised by the offer, then his smile grew, the wrinkles of his face deepening into little dimples. “I would enjoy that very much, Aziraphale. Thank you.”

Aziraphale found himself returning Raphael’s smile, feeling the most at peace he’s ever felt. Raphael, trick or not, reminded him of Eden, of simpler days and simpler angels, of a time when there weren’t mind-games to play. Raphael reminded Aziraphale of a home he hasn’t longed for in ages. 

Aziraphale shook his head and relaxed his face, remembering that he wasn’t at home. He patted his vest, feeling security with the small blade that rested hidden underneath it. “So, ah, we were talking about Gabriel, yes?”

Raphael nodded and uncrossed his legs, sitting up straight, yet still with that relaxed smile on his face. “Yes, we were. I suppose I’m not terribly surprised by his choice of partner,” Raphael said, gesturing to Aziraphale. “He always did have a soft spot for you.”

Aziraphale remembered the letters hidden away in his boxes and blushed a bit. “Yes. He has.”

“What exactly were you interested in talking about?” Raphael asked. “There’s a lot of Gabriel to discuss.” He chuckled at his own joke that Aziraphale didn’t quite understand. 

“I suppose, well, why exactly did he come talk to you? Last I heard, you had had quite the falling out.”

“Last I heard as well.” Raphael laughed again and sighed, looking around at the crowd. “But we’ve both changed. And he needed help, so I helped him.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a bit more, eager to learn. “Helped him with what?”

Raphael opened his mouth, but was cut off by Gabriel, appearing behind Aziraphale and grabbing his shoulder with a worried hand. 

“Aziraphale! Where’s Crowley?”

Aziraphale jumped to his feet, the panic and fear of Raphael’s motives replaced by the panic and fear of Crowley’s safety. “I don’t know. Why?”

“You don’t know? Gabriel grabbed Aziraphale’s other shoulder, his face tight and worried. “How can you not know?”

“What happened?” Aziraphale placed his hands on Gabriel’s tense arms. “Did you learn something?”

“I went to the bookshop and you weren’t there.” Gabriel’s grip tightened on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Why isn’t Crowley with you?”

“He needed some time alone, he’s fine.” But there was a waiver in Aziraphale’s voice that betrayed his confidence.

“Someone is trying to hurt him and he’s not in the bookshop,” Gabriel explained. “He’s in danger!”

“Wait,” Raphael interrupted. He stood up, hands resting in his pockets. “Who’s trying to hurt Crowley?”

“We aren’t sure,” Aziraphale said. He rubbed over Gabriel’s arms. “But I know that he’s fine. I spoke with him just a few minutes ago.”

“Something could have happened since then,” Gabriel insisted. His eyes were the brightest that Aziraphale had ever seen. 

Aziraphale moved a hand to Gabriel’s face, running a thumb over his cheek. “Well then perhaps we should call him again, to check.”

Gabriel relaxed a little and nodded. Aziraphale smiled at him and pulled out his mobile phone. He was still getting used to it, but Crowley had programmed it with his number, so calling him was as simple as pressing a button. 

“How’s lunch?” Crowley asked, his smirk ever present in his voice. 

“It’s...interesting,” Aziraphale said, glancing back at Raphael, who was taking everything in with a passive curiosity. “Listen, Gabriel’s here now and he’s awfully worried. Would you mind putting him at ease?”

Crowley chuckled. “Put him on.”

Aziraphale handed the phone to Gabriel, who snatched it from him and turned, talking to Crowley in a not-so-hushed voice.

Raphael walked over and placed a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder that made him jump. “So what’s the story with Crowley?”

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale looked at Raphael, wondering the level of trust he could have in him. But Gabriel had had no reaction to seeing them having lunch together, so perhaps his story was true after all. “Well, someone has been messing with him, giving him colds and nightmares and all sorts of trouble. We’re still trying to figure out who it is, however.”

Raphael looked around again, as if he was continuously discovering something new in where they were. “Another demon, I’d say.”

Aziraphale nodded. “That’s what we think. We just need to know who, so we could stop them.”

Raphael’s head tilted a bit, his green eyes sparkling a bit as he stared, rather intensely, at Aziraphale. “It could be a group effort.”

Aziraphale hadn’t thought of that, and his heart sank. If it was a joint effort, then they’d have a harder time fixing everything. And he wasn’t sure their horn gambit would pay off again, if any of them could stomach playing it at all. 

“No,” Gabriel shouted, turning back around to avoid the stares of the crowd. “Go back _now_!”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, stepping up to him. He reached out for the phone, hoping to deescalate the situation before it got out of control.

“I can to tell you what to do,” Gabriel said, spinning out of Aziraphale’s way. “Fine! Then I’ll find you and drag you there myself!”

Aziraphale leaned over Gabriel’s side and successfully managed to wrangle the phone from him, Gabriel too upset to put up a proper fight. 

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale greeted as he held the phone to his ear. “Everything alright?”

“He wants me to go sit at home like some damsel in distress,” Crowley complained. “I’m not going to just lay around doing nothing, Aziraphale. I’ll go crazy, and he’s the first one I’ll kill.”

“I know, dear, I know. I’ll talk to him, and you just keep checking in, alright?”

Crowley sighed, the hint of a growl behind his suffering. “I know you two are worried but-”

“I know,” Aziraphale repeated. “We’ll be better, I promise. Now, get back to your energetic releasing.” He tried to chuckle but he knew it didn’t come out the way it should. 

He hung up, glad to find that Gabriel had calmed down a bit. 

“Well?” Gabriel asked. “Is he going to the shop?”

Aziraphale shook his head. He grabbed Gabriel’s arm before he could run off and do something stupid. “He’s alright, I assure you. Us getting all worked up over it is only going to make things worse.”

“How can you not be worked up over this?” Gabriel asked. “Just last night you were ready to rip someone’s head off.”

Raphael took interest in that, his eyebrows rising. “Were you?”

Aziraphale smiled nervously at him. “I was. I am. But...well we can’t just force him to stay cooped up against his will, can we?”

Gabriel closed the gap between them, grabbing Aziraphale’s hands. They were cold. “You two always say we’re strong and safe because we’re together. How can he be safe if he’s alone?” Aziraphale couldn’t argue, because Gabriel did have a point. “If we can’t keep him inside, then you have to be with him, Aziraphale. _Please_.”

Aziraphale gulped and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.” He sighed and tried to squeeze a bit of warmth back to Gabriel’s hands. “Let’s stop by the shop and grab some more supplies, in case, and then we’ll go track him down, alright.”

Gabriel nodded, his whole body relaxing. It stiffened again as Raphael patted his back. “I’ll come with,” he said. “You guys can fill me in on the way.”

-

It had been interesting to watch Raphael and Gabriel talk on the way to the shop, even if Aziraphale had been distracted by his worry. They talked like old friends. Aziraphale figured, they technically were. Raphael seemed to share their concern over Crowley’s safety, if not fueled by love so much as curiosity. But any sort of friendship or merriment died when they arrived at the shop.

The door was wide open.

Aziraphale raced across the street, rushing into the shop without a second thought, Gabriel quick on his heels.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called. Nothing looked out of place in the main area. “Crowley?” He raced to the back, finding no mess or sign of distress. 

“Perhaps the wind just knocked the door open,” Gabriel suggested, nearly knocking into Aziraphale as they both rushed about.

“Don’t be silly,” Aziraphale told him as he made his way back to the main room. This was them they were talking about, of course something was wrong. And his suspicion about that was confirmed as he spied Raphael at the door. He was testing the waters, sticking a foot in before stepping all the way in, unhindered. The protection was gone, and so was Crowley.

“He wasn’t here,” Gabriel reminded him. “As long as he’s out he could still be okay.”

Aziraphale jumped for the phone, stopping short at the sound of a bump from upstairs. It was followed by a shattering of glass and the thundering boom of Gabriel and Aziraphale racing up the steps. 

Gabriel reached the room first, standing stiff in the doorway, staring at the floor by the couch. Aziraphale tried to wiggle his way past, but only got stuck when he saw the scene before him. “No,” he whispered. 

Because it couldn’t be. 

Crowley wasn’t here. He was out, he had been out. Whatever had just happened had happened to somebody else. It had to have. Because it couldn’t be what he thought. This couldn’t be the end of everything, everything that he had wanted for so long and worked so hard for. This wasn’t the day he lost it all. 

Those simply weren’t Crowley sunglasses, cracked and bloodied, sitting in a pile of water he was very much susceptible too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean  
> those _are_ his sunglasses in holy water.  
> But he's _fine_


	3. Ready for war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I meant to get this up last week 😂😂😂  
> Thank you all for your patience, and I promise, promise, promise!! there will be lots of happy fluff after this piece to make up for it all <3 <3 <3

Every angel was a bloody worry-wart, and Crowley was surprised he had made it this far without wringing one of their necks. 

He got it. Obviously he did. If one of them were in his shoes he’d have probably tied them to a chair and refused to let them go. But he couldn’t be all wound up like that waiting for something new to happen. He was just glad Aziraphale hadn’t tried to drug him or anything.

But, he decided, it certainly didn’t help their situation to go around making them worry even more. Yes, he didn’t want to be holed up inside for the foreseeable future. But more than that, he didn’t want to cause extra stress on Aziraphale and Gabriel. Not when it wasn’t for fun, of course. 

So Crowley huffed and puffed and walked his way home. It had been nice to be out and free on his own for a bit, so he soaked up every last bit of it he could get before being locked away in the bookshop for the rest of his days.

Alright, he might have been a little over dramatic, but it certainly felt like a life sentence. 

Crowley groaned and went to unlock the door, only to find it already open. He checked the sign, but it was closed. Aziraphale should still be out to lunch with Raphael. (Which was a topic he needed a full night’s rest to properly digest). He figured Gabriel must have come back to wait for him. _Bloody angels_.

“I told you I was fine,” Crowley said with a roll of his eyes as he entered the shop. “No need to wait up for me like I’m some teen sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh you may be fine now,” a familiarly sick voice said. “But you won’t be for long.”

Crowley shivered involuntarily and turned to the right. Hastur was leaning up against the desk, holding a book in one hand. He smirked and ripped a page out, letting it float to the floor where it joined a small pile of white. Crowley growled at him. 

“Get out.”

“No can do.” Hastur shut the book and dropped it to the ground with a soft thud accompanied by the sound of the door slamming shut. “You and I have some unfinished business.”

Crowley crossed his arms. “How did you even get in here?”

“That’s irrelevant,” Hastur said. “You should concern yourself with what I’m _going_ to do now that I have.”

“You’re going to get the fuck out of my house,” Crowley warned, hands balling into fists. Every bone in his body, that’s what he was going to break.

“I suppose you’re going to make me?”

“You bet your-” Crowley tripped on his intimidating storm-walk over, something long and heavy wrapping around his feet. As he fell, it wrapped itself around him more, like a snake circling its prey. 

But it wasn’t a snake. It was those damn chains. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Crowley growled. He twisted and turned, rolled around on the floor as he tried to worm his way out of the chains. But they held tight, digging into him with every movement. 

“I would never kid you, Crowley,” Hastur said. “It wouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

Crowley scowled up at him and Hastur laughed. “Come on now. Let’s get you comfortable while we wait.”

Hastur grabbed the chains and, rather easily, dragged Crowley up the steps. Powerless, Crowley still thrashed about and jerked in his bindings, doing anything he could to get himself loose or, at the very least, piss Hastur off. 

But Hastur seemed to be in a particularly good mood as he pulled Crowley to his feet, standing him next to the couch. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, carefully pulling a glass jar out of his pocket. It was filled with holy water, and covered with a tight seal. 

“Something I’m immune to,” Crowley answered. He hoped their old gambit was still paying off. 

“Well, it’s not for you, is it?” Hastur snapped. He placed the jar down on the table between them then walked over to Crowley’s side. “No, I’ve got a theory.”

“Oh do tell.”

“You might be immune to holy water now, but perhaps you’ve lost other...defenses.” Hastur quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps your little angel has, too.”

Crowley gulped. He knew that the water wouldn’t work on Aziraphale. But if Hastur was still here when Aziraphale got back, then he would be in trouble. Crowley had to get this over with, and fast. 

“So why not just test it out on me?” he asked. “Throw some hell fire my way and just see what happens.” 

Hastur chuckled and smirked. “That would be too easy for you,” he said. “And I have much bigger plans in store.”

Crowley scoffed. “You? Having a plan? There’s something I’d like to see.”

“Oh you will.” Hastur leaned down and whispered a gravely tone in Crowley’s ear. “You’re going to sit and watch, while _I_ take away the only thing _you_ care about.”

There was a panicked sound of feet downstairs, then Aziraphale’s voice calling out, “Crowley!”

Hastur gasped with a giddy little chuckle. “Show time.”

Crowley panicked. But, as often happened, he did his best thinking while panicking. He pulled his head back and rammed it forward, making hard contact with Hastur’s face. He felt a drip of blood run down his face as his glasses shattered and fell to the ground. Hastur, meanwhile, stumbled back and tripped. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud. That, at least, would alert Aziraphale to Crowley’s presence. Now, if he could just get rid of Hastur…

Crowley smirked, spying the glass of test-water Hastur had forgotten about. Crowley bumped his hip against the table, sending the glass to the floor. It shattered, holy water spilling out around them. Hastur shrieked and scattered away as Crowley stepped out of the water’s path. 

“Interesting reaction,” Hastur said with a sneer, “For someone immune.”

Crowley barely had time to process his slight mistake before a stampede was making its way up the stairs. Hastur scoffed and snapped his fingers, pulling them both from the bookshop, and Earth, just before rescue arrived.

-

“It...it can’t be,” Aziraphale whispered. He knelt before the puddle on the ground, still spreading between the notches in the floor. He touched a finger to it, confirming that yes, it could be. And it was. With a shaking hand, he picked up Crowley’s glasses, hoping, somehow, that another demon had Crowley’s unique sense in eye-wear. 

“We have to find who did this,” Gabriel said with a low growl. 

Aziraphale nodded, but he felt weak. He felt tired. He wanted revenge, but the very last thing he could think about doing was waging war down on Hell. He had lost the love of his life, and he just wanted to sit and cry for a bit.

“Aziraphale.” Gabriel’s voice was low and soft. He knelt on the ground next to Aziraphale and slowly reached out for his hand. 

Aziraphale took a shaky breath. “I just need a moment.”

Gabriel nodded. Aziraphale held his hand tight as he cried, his own tears mixing below with the water that had taken his whole life from him. He would never see his Crowley again. Would never get to look at that smile, run his fingers through that hair, hear that voice or laughter. The one constant he had had in his life was gone, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to adjust. He had gone years without seeing Crowley in the past, but there had always been the promise of reunion. And now…

Aziraphale felt his lip quiver and in all but a second he was sobbing, much too tired to support his own weight. He fell sideways and slumped up against Gabriel, who wrapped and arm around him and held him tight. 

“He’s not dead.”

Aziraphale sniffed and summoned the energy to raise his head and look at the door. Raphael was there, hands still in his pockets, small frown on his face. 

“What?” Gabriel asked. 

“Crowley. He’s still alive.”

Aziraphale had to hope, had to believe this was true. Because the alternative was much too much to bear. “How do you know?” He wiped the tears away on the back of his hand. 

Raphael took a deep breath through his nose, as if he was smelling the air. “This was Hastur’s doing. And knowing him, he kept Crowley alive for torturing purposes.”

“But, but,” Aziraphale looked back at the puddle then quickly shut his eyes. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

“Holy water doesn’t destroy clothes,” Raphael explained. “So, unless Crowley was wandering around naked up here, he’s fine.”

Aziraphale blinked and processed that information. It wasn’t _unlike_ Crowley to wander around naked, especially if he believed Aziraphale or Gabriel was coming around at some point. But he wouldn’t have just his glasses on. 

And Aziraphale needed to hope.

Aziraphale finished cleaning off his face and got to his feet, pulling Gabriel up with him. “We simply have to find him, then.”

-

Crowley struggled against the binds holding him once again. He growled and snarled and did everything short of turning into a rabid hound right then and there. And he probably would have if it weren’t for those damn chains constricting his body. He swore that if he ever got out of them this time, he’d personally see to it that every link of those blood things was thrown into molten lava.

“It’s no use struggling,” Dagon reminded him. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed and legs spread out, bored. 

“Not. Gonna. Stop me,” Crowley told her as he continued to push his arms out in alternating pulses, hoping to loosen one side enough to slip out. So far he wasn’t having much luck. 

“You should just save your energy,” Dagon said. “You’ll need it for the big event.”

Crowley sighed, blowing the hair out of his face. “Look, even if you could _find_ Aziraphale, he won’t go easily. You don’t stand a chance.”

Dagon laughed and got to her feet. She placed her hands on the arms of Crowley’s chair and leaned down, the stink of rotten fish hot on her breath. “Oh he’ll come. We have you,” she pressed a finger to Crowley’s nose, “after all.” 

Crowley leaned his head back and bit at Dagon’s finger, missing it by inches. Dagon laughed and patted him on the head before returning to her seat. With a sigh, Crowley decided he would take a break, reserve his energy for a second escape attempt later. 

“You’ll never get him down here,” Crowley said, hoped really. He desperately, desperately hoped that Aziraphale wasn’t dumb enough to come charging into Hell after him.

“Why not?” Dagon asked, sickening smile on her face. “You certainly aren’t there to protect him. Poor Aziraphale, all alone.”

“Yeah? Well he’s not all alone, in case you forgot!”

The smile never fell from Dagon’s face. “You must be referring to the block-head from upstairs.”

“Hey!” Only he got to insult Gabriel like that. 

“Don’t you worry.” If possible, the smile got even worse. “We have ways of dealing with him.”

Crowley felt his heart sink into his stomach, but he swallowed the feeling away and growled at Dagon. “What did you do to him?”

“Oh nothing...yet.”

-

“I can’t thank you enough for coming with us,” Aziraphale said. He stood in the center of the shop with Raphael while Gabriel finished getting the last of their weapons from below. 

“Of course,” Raphael said. He had started smiling again. “Wouldn’t dream of letting the two of you go down there alone. And I’m sure no one else up there will be too keen to help you.”

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “They wouldn’t.”

Gabriel emerged and placed a last bag on the ground before them. “That should be all of it. Are we ready?”

“Might be a bit out of practice,” Raphael said. “Just have to limber up.” He started stretching his shoulders out, all of them blinking in surprise when something audibly popped. “Oh, that felt good actually.”

“Uhm, excuse me?”

Aziraphale looked at the door, ready to fight off any human that thought an open door meant an open shop. But it wasn’t a human. It was an angel. 

“Phanuel,” Gabriel greeted. “Now isn’t a good time. I’ll deal with whatever they need when I get back.” He stooped down to pick up a bag. 

“It’s Sandalphon,” Phanuel said, stopping Gabriel in his tracks. He stood back up. “He’s sick.”

Aziraphale’s hand landed gently on Gabriel’s shoulder. “It’s a trap,” he said. “They’re working with Hell again and this is just a ploy to get you away.”

“He really is sick,” Phanuel urged. “And he...well, he was asking for you.”

“Aziraphale…” Gabriel turned to look at him, hoping for the permission he knew he wouldn’t get. 

“It’s a set-up,” Aziraphale said. 

“What if it’s not?” Gabriel took Aziraphale’s hand in his own. “What if he needs me?”

Aziraphale frowned and stepped closer. He placed his other hand on Gabriel’s cheek, a warmth spreading over his skin. “Even if he does, Crowley needs you more.” He tilted his head a bit, his eyes shining with tears. “I- _I_ need you more.”

Gabriel felt his heart in his chest like a dead weight, pulling against the veins and arteries that held it in place. “You’re right,” he said, his voice soft. He lowered his head in the shame of forgetting that love he had. Aziraphale’s hand slid to the back of his neck, and his fingers rubbed gently over Gabriel’s skin. 

“Tell ya what,” Raphael said. “You guys can handle Hell, I’ll go take a look-see at Sandalphon.”

Gabriel’s head popped back up, Aziraphale’s hands falling away. “What?”

“I am the best healer of us all,” Raphael reminded him. He shoved the bag of weapons he had into Gabriel’s arms. “If there’s anything wrong with him, I can fix it. Besides,” he shrugged, “Got some loose ends to tie up there.”

Gabriel and Aziraphale looked from him to Phanuel, who just shook their head a little and shrugged.

“Don’t worry.” Raphael patted Gabriel on the shoulder then went to stand next to Phanuel. “I’ll handle things up North.” He placed his arm around Phanuel and in the blink of an eye they were gone.

“I suppose it’s just the two of us, then.” Aziraphale picked up his own bag and settled the strap over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Gabriel nodded, but took Aziraphale’s hand again. “I just...I just want to say something, in case-”

Aziraphale pressed a finger to Gabriel’s lips and shook his head. “There’s plenty of time to tell me everything you want. _After_ we get back.”

Gabriel nodded. It felt like a suicide mission, the two of them against the crowds of Hell. But he had to tell Aziraphale how he felt. And Crowley. So they simply all had to get out of this alive.

They just had to.


	4. Desiccation tolerance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it look 8 million years to finish this up!!  
> As you can tell, I'm not that great at writing fight scenes so I have to find new and fun ways to avoid them. 😂😂  
> But thank you all for sticking with me to the end!  
> May your love be as powerful as these fools <3

Crowley couldn’t decide what was more torturous, the threat of harm coming to Aziraphale and Gabriel or the boredom. He didn’t think he could be so bored, especially not with the thoughts he was thinking, the endless loop of _will they come for me_ and what will happen if they do. But there was something about that place, that room, that was just so terribly _boring_.

The door opened behind him and Crowley readied himself for whatever threat they had come up with next.

“Still alive in there?” Hastur asked. He and Dagon stepped around into view, each looking a little too pleased with themselves. 

“No,” Crowley told them.

The two looked at each other for a second, and Crowley scoffed. How do such a group of half-wits manage to keep kidnapping him? 

“Well, alive or not,” Dagon continued, “It’s finally time for the main event.”

Hastur’s smile turned up more, leaving a sour feeling in Crowley’s gut. “Hear that?” Hastur pointed to the ceiling. Crowley followed his gesture, listening to the sounds of distant screams. “That’s your supposed rescue on their way.”

Crowley closed his eyes and let his head drop. Damn fools. They couldn’t possibly put themselves at risk like this. Not for him. He wasn’t worth their lives. 

“We’ll let you sit with that for a few minutes longer,” Dagon said, patting Crowley’s shoulder on the way out. “Let it really sink in.”

Crowley growled as they left, wishing they would just get it over with already. He could hear the echo of battle drawing ever closer, and he couldn’t stand to think it was all his fault. The loves of his life were walking right into a trap. All because of him. 

-

Aziraphale and Gabriel had managed to get through a fair number of demons on pure intimidation alone. But the further they got into Hell, the less afraid the demons became. And before long they were quickly going through the weapons at their disposal. 

Most weren’t powerful enough to _kill_ the demons. And they didn’t have enough time to make that much holy water. But they could discorporate the demons, giving them enough time to get through before new bodies could be made and issued. 

“It’s like a maze down here,” Gabriel said as they arrived in an empty conference room. “You’d think they’d have a big sign announcing their torture chambers.”

Aziraphale nodded and peeked out the door. A small group of demons ran past, but didn’t notice them. “Perhaps we should split up.”

“Are you crazy? Aziraphale, that is the last thing we should do.”

“We could cover more ground. Find him faster, before they get tired of waiting and do something horrible.”

“We’re safer together,” Gabriel assured him. “You know that.”

“Yes. But the demons would have to split up, too. To find us. It would make the groups a lot easier to deal with.”

“And if they don’t?” Gabriel sighed and took Aziraphale’s hand. “What if they all decide to stay together and go after _you_?”

Aziraphale gulped at the prospect. “Then you would be free to find Crowley and get him out safely.”

“I am not losing either of you today,” Gabriel said. 

“I fear we’re running out of time,” Aziraphale whispered. And Gabriel sighed. Because he was probably right. “We can pray if we run into trouble. Or if we find him.”

Gabriel studied him with a hard face, then dropped his head and nodded. Aziraphale shook as he kissed Gabriel’s head. He knew it was risky, and dangerous, and everything they shouldn’t do. But if the demons decided that Hastur’s revenge wasn’t worth the hassle they were giving them, then Crowley would be dead in an instant. 

And that couldn’t happen.

-

Gabriel had not actually been to Hell before. It was dark, dirty, and confusing. The walls were too closely packed together, and souls drifted around, shuffling about in lines, leaving no room for walking about. It especially left no room for fighting.

Which ended up serving him quite well, as it turned out. The demons worried about damaging the souls on their way through the process. (As if these souls could get any more damaged). Gabriel was able to use that to his advantage, slipping through openings here and there, losing himself in the crowds, never giving the demons a clear shot at him. 

All he had to do was hope that Crowley was somewhere in a room near the crowds.

-

Hastur had made an excellent plan. It didn’t matter so much that Heaven’s plan to get rid of Gabriel failed. If anything, it just proved how much better than them Hell was. They had made it such a long, arduous journey to get through the hallways that the two rogue angels had split themselves up! And now Aziraphale was headed right towards him. And right towards his demise. 

Aziraphale stepped into the room, a familiar sight by his side. It may not have been _his_ flaming sword, but it was one all the same. Hastur eyed it carefully as Aziraphale raised it, point poised at him. 

“Where is he?” Aziraphale asked. 

Hastur shrugged his shoulders. “Where’s who?”

“Don’t play games with me.” Aziraphale’s eyes were squinted, but bright. He was properly riled up. Which only made Hastur’s plan even more fun. 

“I’m really not sure I know who you mean?” Hastur said. He took a few steps to the left, glancing up to make sure the trap would go off as soon as Aziraphale entered the room.

And then he did.

And the trap did go off.

Only Aziraphale seemed to not be bothered by it. The sigil on the ground glowed, but the rage inside Aziraphale glowed brighter. He ran his way right through the mark that should have cut him down. He ran right up to Hastur, too stunned to think to defend himself. 

Pinned against the wall, hot steel pressed to his neck, Hastur started to panic. 

“I will only ask you one more time,” Aziraphale said. “Where. Is. He?”

Hastur couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. There was something positively _radiating_ off Aziraphale. Something familiar, yet foreign. 

It was something that Hastur had felt before. Something he had known so well in the days he could no longer remember. Something he had hidden so perfectly in the days to follow. Something that reminded him of dark skin and colorful eyes. Something that pulled every last ounce of hatred he had from his body and tossed it away. 

Demons couldn’t feel love, they had told him. So what was this he was feeling now? What was that he had felt then?

“Times up!” Aziraphale pulled his blade back and Hastur didn’t even think about trying to avoid it. At least this way he wouldn’t have to suffer in the way that he wanted Crowley to. Not anymore.

-

The screaming had died down. Not gone, just quieter, less all at once, perhaps further away. Crowley bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to think of what that could mean. Because worst case scenario (and Crowley’s known plenty of those) it meant that one of them was dead, and the other was trying to escape. 

The door creaked open and Crowley groaned. “Ya know, I’m really not in the mood for this, guys. Can’t you come back later?”

“You aren’t in the mood to be rescued?”

Crowley bolted up and jerked his body to the side, trying to turn the chair around. He only managed to successfully tip it, falling on his side with a sharp pain to his shoulder. 

Familiar shoes walked into view and then Gabriel was kneeling down next to him, an amused smile on his face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, get me out of this!” Crowley struggled against the chains. 

Gabriel reached up and pulled the chains apart. Crowley rolled over and pushed himself to his knees before wrapping Gabriel up in a hug. He felt warm and safe. But he was only half of home. “Where’s Aziraphale?”

“We split up,” Gabriel mumbled into Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley could feel what might have been tears there, but he didn’t mention it. “I’ll let him know I found you.”

“You left him alone in Hell?” Crowley asked. He couldn’t summon the energy to be _too_ mad at Gabriel, but it was pretty dumb. “He could be hurt!”

“He’s fine. He’s not that far from here, actually.” They finally separated and Gabriel helped Crowley get to his feet, his body still shaking from every twist and turn his life has had so far. “And it was his idea.”

-

“Aziraphale!”

The blade stopped inches from its mark, flames licking against skin. But that name, in that voice, echoed in Aziraphale’s head until he turned to find the source of it standing in the doorway, arms spread out across it, looking positively wrecked. 

Aziraphale’s voice broke as he called out, “Crowley!” and raced over to him, sword and demon forgotten behind. 

Crowley ran up to meet him, the two embracing in a tight hug in the center of the room. Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck and Aziraphale’s hands couldn’t seem to find a good resting place. They had to hover and move and touch every inch of Crowley to make sure it was real, to make sure this was really him and that he was here.

“I thought I had lost you,” Aziraphale cried, holding him tighter. 

“I know,” Crowley whispered. “Fuck, angel, I’m so sorry.”

There were no words Aziraphale could think of to express everything he was feeling. So he just poured it all into that hug, certain he would never let go again. 

Gabriel cleared his throat. “We probably shouldn’t stay any longer than we have to.”

Aziraphale nodded. He looked over his shoulder. Hastur was gone, as was the sword. He wanted to hunt him down, end him properly before something like this could happen again. But Gabriel was right. The longer they were here, the more danger they were in. 

And he wasn’t losing Crowley a second time.

-

There wasn’t really much alcohol in the world that Hastur thought it was worth going to Hell for. The only thing he could stand, really, was Vodka. And even then, most of the brands got it wrong. He was kind of hoping he could at least get a good drink in before it was all over, but the bar he had materialized into was short on options, and he couldn’t be seen being picky at the end. 

The sword that would have been his demise rested on the counter before him. The bartender had given him a weird look when he put it down, but he had given her a weirder one and she left him alone. He looked down at it, wondering what would have happened had Aziraphale gone through with it. 

It slid out of his view, scratching gently against the counter-top. His eyes followed it, watched the delicate hand hardened by yard-work pull it away. He had heard rumors that Raphael was around again. 

“Just in case,” Raphael said. He smiled at Hastur. It was infuriating. 

“Go away,” Hastur mumbled. 

“I will. I just need to make sure you won’t do anything stupid. Either to yourself or Crowley.”

Hastur shook his head. _Crowley._ Still hated the guy. But...he shivered a bit, remembering that feeling from Aziraphale. The pure energy of it. It had been terrifying. He had seen that feeling destroyed and rebuilt multiple times before. He had had it once, and he had lost it. 

And, even though he prided himself on being one of the best demons in the business, he didn’t think he had it in him to destroy something like that. 

“Have you ever heard of Desiccation tolerance?” Raphael asked.

“Leave me alone,” Hastur urged.

Raphael did not. “In short, it’s a process that allows plants to exist in a sort of...hmm, how to put it...cellular suspension, when dehydrated.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know, I know, plants aren’t everybody’s thing.” Raphael wouldn’t stop smiling and Hastur eyed the sword. “But the funny thing is...it kind of happened in a soul once.”

“Really?” Hastur asked with mock interest.

Raphael hummed. “Weirdest thing. No one was really sure _how_ it happened. My bet’s on the kid.” Raphael leaned over and Hastur glared at him. “But, it did happen. A demon got put in that sort of state.”

“Was it me?” Hastur asked. “In this conversation?”

Raphael laughed and Hastur thought about punching him. “Do you know what happens when you’re reborn?”

“I bet you’ll tell me.”

“You go back to your original state of being. From before anything had happened to you. Yet!” He raised one finger, looking thrilled with himself. “You maintain all your memories. Probably something to do on the cellular level with that.”

“Is this going anywhere?” Hastur asked. 

Raphael’s smile widened. “Just something I thought you’d be interested in knowing.”

“You thought wrong.”

“I found it interesting.” It hadn’t been Raphael that spoke. No. It was a voice filled with a familiar gravely tone. A voice that had once filled all of Hastur’s days, and now haunted each of his nights. 

Hastur turned slowly in his seat, eyes widening as he looked upon the most familiar soul in the universe. Only there was a lack of anything demonic about it. 

“Had him stuck up there,” Raphael explained. Hastur could only blink, trying to process what was happening. Ligur was alive? But he was...an angel?

“You’d think they’d come up with something a little more clever than kidnapping a demon,” Ligur sneered. 

“Ah ah!” Raphael pointed a finger at him. “Angel.”

“Fuck off.”

Raphael laughed and did just that. He picked up the sword, waved a farewell to the two of them, and waltzed his way out of the bar. 

Hastur stared at Ligur, and Ligur stared at Hastur.

They told him demon’s couldn’t feel love. 

Maybe Ligur could feel it for the both of them now.


End file.
